I See You
by AmandaS
Summary: Mulder’s back, but not quite the way Scully remembers him... (MSR fic)
1. He Returns...

I Seee You

Disclaimer: Mulder, Scully, Skinner, and other _familiar_ characters are not mine. They belong to Fox, Chris Carter, 1013, and all of them. I don't take credit for inventing them, or for their history, just for manipulating them for fun.

Author's Note: I'm open to suggestions of where to go from here. It started out pretty easy, but… Anyway, any kind of feedback you can give me would be deeply appreciated. Some people have commented on the fact that I refer to Mulder as he & I, and I promise it will make sense later, just be patient… And as for how Mulder has changed, that's coming too, I'm just building… THANX!! Bye!

I See You PART I

Behind the darkness, something is moving. I cannot see it, but I can feel the air shift to accommodate its size, lifting particles and carrying them to me in the dirty smell of the dust of the city. Underneath, far weaker, I can smell the apple-scented lotion that you used on your hands every morning. I hear your boots, whispering on tiptoes across the kitchen tiles, tapping and shuffling cautiously on ceramic. 

The rough wool blend of your suit rubs abrasively in the silence, and I picture your charcoal gray slacks and jacket and black ankle boots. There is a tiny voice in your breaths, raspy and sweet, masking pain and tears. For a brief moment, starlight catches a thin bright spring rain green and blackness in your eyes. Even you can see the glinting sparkle of the thin stream of light and glance about anxiously, fearing the presence of something _conscious. _

The gentle tapping ends as your boots sink into the plush, sea foam green carpet in your living room that you were going to have replaced in the spring. Here, there is enough dim light to see a silhouette of your thin, angular face and narrow nose. Your long, clean fingers touch the tips of your hair, just below your chin. In the faint light, the white starched blouse you are wearing almost glows with deep shadows at its seams, and there is dim highlight on your rounded abdomen. The rest of you remain a dim shape, eerily backlit in silvery white.

Near the stairs, you pause, resting your hand on the white square railing to listen. Past the stairs, down the hall, the bathroom fan is still blowing. You left in a hurry this morning, but now you are tired. You'll turn it off in the morning. But there's something else keeping you there at the bottom of the stairs when all you really want to do is put on some soft pajamas, crawl under your fuzzy white flannel sheets and blue and gold worn patchwork quilt, and fall asleep, leaving behind the heaviness, the darkness and the pain of the day, to slip back to the past where everything was okay. You can barely keep your eyes open, but there's something. You sigh, turning to go up the stairs, but again you stop, one hand extending up the rail. Outside, the wind presses against the windows until they cry out in protest. Startled, you hand drops from the rail and you search the shadows. You heard him, floating in on the waves of wind, that's why you couldn't go up.With their movement, your eyes flicker and sparkle expectantly, as you inhale the clean, but faintly wood smoke tinted air, searching for traces of movement. But the darkness is dry, stale, and thick with loneliness and loss. You shake your head because you know better. You heard nothing and go heavily upstairs, dragging a train of memories and spirits. I can't keep silent a moment longer and clear my throat and step out of the shadows.

You jump, instantly drawing you gun and training it on my shadowed figure. Quickly I reach out and flip on the lights to allay your fears. For a moment longer you continue to aim the barrel of your gun at me before shakily returning it to its place. In the light, I can see the tears in your liquid blue eyes begin to pool and then slowly slip down your smooth, paling cheeks. Your coral-colored lips tremble slightly as you take a step towards me, but you stumble, forgetting that you are on the stairs. I cannot help but grin as you struggle to right yourself and then come flying down the stairs.

"Is it really you…?"

"It's me—"

"But I thought… I mean I…"

You stop a few feet short of me, just staring in amazement. I lift a hand to touch you and you jump back. Too much.

"Mulder, do you know where I just was?"

"My funeral."

"Then how…?"

You don't wait for me to answer, instead you throw your arms around me, weeping into my T-shirt, and cling to me desperately. You are so confused. Who can blame you? I have to grin as I hug you back, caressing your back.

"I'm fine, Scully. They could never get me."

Finally you manage a weak smile through your tears as you look up at me. I wipe a tear from your flushed cheek and lead you over to the couch. I sit down and pull you down next to me. You arms drift up my neck, in awe at the sight of me. Not even three hours ago you had watched them put the last of the dirt over my coffin and stood staring at my headstone thinking that this couldn't be. I couldn't be dead. You had stood on the freshly filled hole, your hand on your child, picturing a future without me. Who could blame you for being confused?

Sniffling and wiping at your tears, you stare up at me. You smile when you realize that I'm crying too. "Serves you right, you bastard."

"Got ya', Scully."

This laugh comes out along with a bit of a sneeze and immediately after you sniff inward. I pull you in closer and allow myself to smell your hair. Always so clean. But you have been in DC so there is still that smell of city and the subways and the grime of the atmosphere. But underneath I could still smell the herbal shampoo that you used. I placed a light kiss there, not wanting you to know.

"What happened, Mulder?"

"Wha'do you mean, Scully?"

"Who or what was in that coffin this afternoon?"

"I was."

"What?"  
  


"You heard me, I was."

"Then, how…?"  
  


"They exhumed me sometime around 10 PM. Grounds worker heard me screaming."

For the first time, you sit back and take a look at me. At my scars. They're still there, ugly and painful. Your fingers drift to the most visible, the ones on my cheeks, near my mouth. I moved my tongue to touch the insides of the scars on my cheeks and you jump in surprise. You can't believe what your seeing, you think it's a dream, that any moment now you're going to wake up and realize that I'm not really here. Inside you beg that this isn't a dream. You can see that my scars are terrible and you feel anger for whoever did this build inside you. You hand drops down but you continue to look into my eyes.

"So, you just…woke up?"

"Yeah. I guess. I don't really remember anything. I remember setting up equipment in the woods with Skinner and hearing something. I walked away and I saw this bright light. Then everything was dark and I was stuck inside the coffin."

I can the "Oh god" in your eyes. The horror and the fear. The emptiness of the last six months come rushing back to you. All that had happened, all that hadn't happened that should have.

"They called Skinner when they were exhuming me, and tried to call you at your apartment. Once they'd gotten me out, Skinner told me you were staying out here in his summer house. I asked him not to call and tell you so I could surprise you."

"He should have called. He knew…"

"I told him not to. I didn't want you stressing out and impatiently waiting while I made the long drive out here."

You nod, knowing it was better this way. When you look downward, it allows a single tear to escape the tension on the surface of your eye and drip down your cheek. I reach out and wipe it away, wanting to wipe away all the fear and pain that you've felt in the previous months. It's over but you can hardly believe it. You look up at me, my hand still on your cheek where your tear had been. The shimmer of your blue-green eyes sparkles in the light and you lean against my hand like a purring cat and grin ever so slightly.

The grin fades as you once again notice the scarring on my face and on my hands. They are faded and gray, but still the depth and extent of the wounds was still clearly obvious. You cannot stand the sight of the deep, dark circles under my eyes and the symmetrical gray circles and slashes which remain from my abduction. Though I've assured you I remember none of the pain, you still feel the anger inside, building as you reach out and touch the jagged indentations and swellings of the marks. 

"Are there scars anywhere else?"

"All over, Scully."

The sympathy and longing overwhelm you for a moment as you caress my cheek, gently trying to sooth me. You want to tell me something. Something important as you search my eyes for it. There's something that I want to say too, but the tears in your eyes keep me silent.

"But let's not talk about that anymore." Pointedly, I look down at your rounding stomach. "Did you give up on your diet or is there something more here?"  
  


You smile, wondering how things could be the same, after all this time, after all that had happened. You can't say it out loud yet, but it's there, in our eyes once we look up from your stomach.

"I'm due in two and half months."

"I'm very happy for you, Scully. I…I think I know how much this means to you. You're going to make a great mother."

We fall silent now and you pull out of my arms. You realize that you've been desperately clinging to me, and that you're drenched in sweat and tears and that you must look awful, not realizing that I don't care. Scooching back on the couch and away from me, you try to regain some semblance of composure as you continue to stare happily into my eyes.

"I can't believe it happened. It's just so unbelievable that I don't know what to say. I keep thinking I'm going to wake up and realize that I was imagining this whole thing. That you were here and that I wasn't pregnant and that I was going to walk into the office and find you throwing pencils at the ceiling and watching one of those videos that aren't yours."

I laugh, knowing you're right. That if I had been here, nothing would have changed. And you'd come in on the more boring mornings to just that. Now, as you lean back against the couch, sighing deeply, releasing some pent-up tension, my eyes are drawn from your flushed face to the curve of your neck, pale and smooth and my hand reaches out to stroke it.

Your head snaps up in surprise and you stare at me uncertainly. Is it there? You try to remember when you first started feeling it. Seven years ago. Unbelievable that it had been so long. And you hadn't said a word. But then, neither have I. Oh, once under the influence of powerful medication I spoke the words, but that did do enough to change things.

Seeing that it was simply a platonic gesture you lean back again and I satisfy myself with studying the curve of your jaw and throat, arched backward.

Your eyes drift closed and I wonder what you are picturing. Perhaps you're going back to New Years, when I kiss you at midnight. Or perhaps to when I lie in the hospital bed and whispered the words to you in my drugged state. Or perhaps it went back further. Or into dreams of passion and love. Or perhaps you were drifting forward, picturing your child and me and a happy home somewhere quiet. At the very least whatever you were picturing brought a faint smile to your lips as you drifted off to sleep.

I went to stand up, but the shift was enough to rouse you again and you snapped into an upright position.

"I'm sorry, Mulder, I didn't mean to drift off like that. I really want to talk to you, it's just been a really long day and…"  
  


"It's all right, Scully. Why don't you lay down and get some sleep. It can wait til morning."

"No, it can't, Mulder. You're back from the dead. My god, if I'd let them perform an autopsy…"

"But you didn't. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. For that matter, I've got no where to go. It's over."

"But there's so much to tell you. So much has happened since you… Since you disappeared."

"Hope 'bout you just start telling me. If you fall asleep, you fall asleep, no hard feelings. Deal?"  
  


"Deal."

"So what have you been doing since I left. I hope you haven't gone and met someone else."

I felt you twinge slightly at the mention. You lie down, with you head in my lap and I stroke your hair as you begin to talk.

"Well, after you left DC, I was working on something with the gunmen and I passed out. They took me to the hospital. They ran some tests and they determined that it was nothing more than morning sickness."

"It was that soon after I disappeared?"

"They treatments worked, Mulder."  
  


"Oh… Oh my god. That's great. I'm glad I could help you."

"Anyway, after you disappeared, there was a massive search for you. A man named John Doggett was assigned to help me find you."

You body tensed as you told me this and I looked down at your eyes which were searching mine for my reaction. When I just continued to watch you, you continued.

"We searched. God, did we search. Do you have any idea how it was for me? How it was to know that you were missing and there was nothing I could do but wait?? Sure, we looked for you, but I knew you would be back until they were ready to let you come back."

"So you believe in aliens now, Scully?"  
  


"Not necessarily. I just believe that whoever took these people, whoever took me and you, wasn't going to return you before they were ready. But something did change. With you gone, I felt the need to compensate for you absence. So whenever a case came up, I made a point to look at it like you would. To find the least scientific explanation. I was bad enough that I frightened Doggett. Poor man. He reminds me of myself seven years ago. Afraid to anything not scientific, not by the book. He follows FBI protocol to a 'T' and can't accept what cannot be supported by facts. And I think that scared the higher ups. That I was becoming you."

"Never."

"Yeah. Or I was trying to, anyway. I failed miserably I'm afraid."

Stroking your cheek, I whispered to you gently, "You could never fail miserably. You just approach it differently. You have your own, unique perspective. A mix of science and faith and observation. You simply changed slightly. You're having more faith in what you've seen, in what you've experienced, beginning to doubt science just a little bit, and admit that it too has limits of intelligence."

The combination of my words and my touch puts you at ease. The reality of these moments are setting in. Your eyes drift shut and I smile down at you. 

"You know when you disappeared this time, I was sure it was real this time. I don't know why it was different. Perhaps because I was pregnant. Perhaps because they assigned me a new partner. Perhaps because there was no real suspect. There was no real place to begin looking. I don't know. But it was different. When we went to where they found the first returned abductee, I was prepared to find you dead. I prepared myself because it was easier. If we did find you alive, then it would be a pleasant surprise. I knew I was going to need a long time to get over you, Mulder. I needed a head start."

You pause for a long moment, drawing in a deep breath, feeling like the world was slipping away and that we were here together in some parallel universe. It couldn't be real.

"But you know the worst part, Mulder?"

"Hmmm?"

I gently stroke you hair again, grateful that your eyes remain closed because I can watch your soft features as you speak. "The worst part was that it didn't help. When I saw you… When I say you lying there… you know… I went crazy. I completely lost control. I was screaming and raving. I mean, you were DEAD, Mulder. Probably had been for at least a couple of days. Your skin was gray and cold. There was no pulse, no breath and you'd begun to get stiff. You were almost completely discolored. But it still wasn't real. It wasn't real. It wasn't re— "

You roll to the side slightly, raising your head to bury it in my stomach. I hug you as best I can from this position, feeling your silent sobs as they wracked your body with tremors. I didn't speak, allowing your tears to come, accepting them. I can never understand, so I must simply help you know reality.

It seems like hours before you body stops shaking and you slowly drift off to sleep. Gently I ease myself from under you, propping your head on a pillow. I pull the afghan from the chair next to the couch and drape it over you. I pull the chair up so that it faces you and settle into it to watch you as you sleep, peacefully.

I reach out and hold onto your hand, allowing myself to drift off to sleep.

END PART I

*************There is more coming, this is just all I could get typed in for the day. Anyway, I probably post about everyother day, sometime more frequently. There is a reason Mulder is both I and he. Andas for how he's different… Well, you'll just have to keep reading.


	2. Getting Up...

I See You PART I

I See You PART II

All night you dreamed about dreaming. About waking up from wonderful dreams that turned out not to be true. So when you opened your eyes there on your couch, you thought that, perhaps, I too was a dream. I'm already awake, watching you from the chair as you stretch plaintively, moaning slightly at your discomfort and burying your face in the dusty cushions of the couch, your red hair rumpled and tangled around your head. When you turn back towards me again you expect to see an empty chair, but I am still there. Slowly, you blinking, not believing, expecting the dream to end again, just another dream within a dream.

Even when I reach out and touch your face and whisper, "Good morning, Scully," you still doubt the reality. Blue eyes wide open you reach up and take my hand, stroking the back gently with your fingertips. It is not until you feel the warmth of my skin as you caress my hand that you know you aren't dreaming and a slow, curious smile spreads across your face, first on you lips, then in your ever changing blue eyes, where there is joy, but that bit of sorrow hangs around, lingering just behind the grin.

"It's really you isn't it. I wasn't dreaming."

"You dreamed, but this isn't a dream."

You laugh a little, very weakly, but it's there, just as you remembered it as you smile widens and your cheeks raise, causing your eyes to squint slightly. Stiffly, you sit up, supporting your upper body with your arms as you go, still not sure you're not going to pass out. You're shaky and can't seem to stop smiling. Shifting, you sit completely upright, facing me, cross-legged on the couch. I watch your manicured but unpainted toes wiggle under your knees in excitement as you wait for me to speak.

"You said you'd tell me in the morning."

I had hoped that you would forget, but it had remained in your mind through every dream. You wanted to know if he was all right. What happened to him? Did he remember anything? Did the scars still hurt? Did he blame you? I should have known that you would remember.

"There's not much more to tell, Scully. I don't remember much of anything, except pain, and dreams about you searching for me."

"Do you… Does it still hurt? I mean, are you still in any kind of pain?"  
  


"Not much, Scully, nothing a little Tylenol won't fix."

But it was much more. I wanted to tell you about the fear that enveloped me. About the fact that I was afraid to leave you. About the constant throb of my insides. About the daggers that shot through me with nearly every step. About wanting to crawl out my skin that screamed out every time it touched anything. About all the nightmares that had filled those terrifying months. About the dreams of you and a baby and a normal happy life that we could never have because of this. Never.

But you know me to well to believe my lie and I tremble as your clinical eye examines my wounds in the daylight. You can see that it goes far beyond the wonders of Tylenol, but you know I won't listen anyway.

So you look away, first at the ceiling, then at the rug, and then towards the kitchen.You chastise yourself for thinking of food at a time like this. But inside you the baby and your stomach is growling and snarling at your, threatening to heighten their protests if you don't obey their every whim. You eyes return to me as I stare at your swollen stomach, and together we laugh as a low gurgling emanates from it.

"Mulder, are you hungry?"  
  


"I think I could eat something."

You lead me into your kitchen, lovingly forcing me down into a chair when I attempt to take over and make breakfast for you. You shake your head vehemently and ask me what I want for breakfast.

"Just some cereal will be fine."

I watch as you reach up in the cupboard to pull out a box of health-food type cereal. You have to rise up on your toes to reach the cereal, and when you reach upward, your shirt lifts slightly, baring the thinnest strip of pale smooth skin just above your pants line. You can just barely grab the box with your fingertips and let out a little sigh as you bring it down to the counter. Reaching to the left, into another cupboard you quickly pull out two bowl and set them down on the counter with a little _ding. Using your pink-polished, manicured nails, you quickly break the seal on the box of cereal and open it, and pour some in each bowl._

The delicate fingers quickly move up to your face to tuck a lock of your fiery red hair behind your ear when you turn to ask me if I want milk in my cereal, and then after I say yes they reach towards the fridge as you approach it. Next one slides down your thigh to your knee as you bend over to examine the contents of the fridge, while the other curves around behind you to rest on your lower back, which has been sore ever since you began to show. Your body strains against your clothes, which are pulled tight because of your crouch. Your white dress shirt is pure white at the seems, but a pale beige where it is stretched tightly over your skin, and fully pressed, probably starched.

At last you spot the milk, way back at the back behind the orange juice and the left over spaghetti and a bowl of salad. Now you squat down further, your low-riding pants slipping down to reveal an expanse of white creamy skin above the dark gray fabric. You take the orange juice carton out and set it on the floor next to you and then reach in for your original objective. There is a shuffle of plastic and glass and then the half-gallon carton appears. With you other hand you pick up the orange juice and rise up, struggling slightly. 

Once you are upright, you stand still for a moment to regain your balance. Tucking the carton of milk against your body with the arm that's holding the orange juice, you are free to use your other hand to rub your forehead. When you realize that I'm watching you very closely you turn your eyes to me and grin widely, trying to allay my fears. After all, I'm the one who bore all the scars, wasn't I?

"Scully, let me help you with that," I prompt, not sure what is was I was going to help you with.

"I'm fine, I just stood up a little too fast. My head just wasn't ready for all this excitement in one day, I guess."

This mundane activity is helping. Diffusing the shock. Get the cereal, the bowls, the milk. Pour the cereal and milk and take them to the table. All so normal. Not part of your life at all. You allow yourself to detach as you go through the normal breakfast-making (in this case cereal-pouring) tasks. There was no history behind us being here. Just you and me having breakfast together.

"Scully."

"Hmmm… Yes?"

You turn from the counter where you're pouring tall glasses of orange juice for us to look at me. Without realizing it, as you turn, your arm sweeps across the counter, sending the two glasses shattering to the floor. Your bright blue eyes widen with shock and surprise, but for a moment you are still, staring at me. But then you jump slightly to the side and let our a little scream. Together, we look quietly down at the broken glasses and yellow-orange liquid. You draw in a very deep breath and then sigh quietly as you move instinctively for the cupboard by the fridge where the broom is kept.

Silently, you are again criticizing your behavior. When he called your name, a shiver ran up your spine and you turned expecting to see a white-sheet ghost and a prankster with a voice-duplication device laughing at you hysterically. So often in the recent past you had turned, thinking that you heard his voice, only to find empty space. Those moments had brought on hours of tears and pain.

That was why you believed it this time. You saw his ghost. He sat with you at dinner and breakfast, and sometimes at lunch if you were having a particularly hard day. He hid in the shadows in the your bedroom, and then in the unfamiliar ones here in your bosses summer home. He stood behind you and whispered in your ear, offering suggestions and criticism as you went about your work. But whenever you turned to confront him, he faded away, in voice and spirit, body and soul. How could he be alive? How could he live in his body when he came to visit you several times daily?

And now, here I was sitting in the kitchen. Grinning and joking, being stubborn as usual, and remembering everything I should, and nothing you didn't want me to. I was everything you remembered and everything you wished you didn't and I was really here. In the flesh, living, breathing, moving. Blood flowing through my veins under my scared tissues. I was sitting in the kitchen watching you make breakfast and smash glasses of orange juice on the floor.

You pull the broom out of the closet without glancing in. The coming and going of his voice and spirit kept you edgy and the broom had become almost as present in your life as he was. All too often he appearedwhen you were holding a glass or a plate, or were standing next to some pottery piece. And whenever they feel with a resounding smash, you could hear him laughing, knowing that was his full intention all along. To make you laugh too.

I had come up behind you and you never noticed until I gently take the broom and the dustpan from your hands and then guide you to the table. Gratefully you sit down and breath a tiny sigh as you place your hand on your stomach and watch me clean up the little disaster. The little clear, blue-tinted shards were fairly small and were quickly brushed into the dustpan and disposed of in the garbage bin in the cupboard where the broom was. I returned the broom and dustpan and then went to the counter for some paper towels.

Your eyes follow me as I kneel down to dry up the orange juice. The cups had been full and the liquid quickly saturates the paper towels that I had taken from the roll on the counter. Without standing, I reach a long arm up to grab the roll and tear off a few more sheets to absorb the remainder of the juice. I ball up the wet, soggy, sticky rags and carry them to the garbage can. I cross the room to the sink and retrieve the damp washcloth that hangs on the tap. I use it to clean up the last of the stickiness that remains from the juice. I stand and return to the sink to wring out the rag and then rinse it out.

"Thanks, Mulder."

"It was nothing, Scully."

Wiping my damp hands on my pant legs, I walk back over and sit down at the table with you. You glance at me expectantly and for a moment, I'm puzzled as you raise an eyebrow, wondering if I will ever learn.

"The cereal, Mulder?"

"Oh, oh yeah. I completely forgot. That baby getting a little impatient in there?"

"Fine I'll just—"

"No, I'll get them, just kidding."

I get up quickly before you can and take a single step over to the counter and grab the blue ceramic bowls full of granola-something cereal.

"You got sugar, Scully?"

"Same cupboard where I got the cereal, second shelf from the bottom."

I opened the oak cabinet and pulled out the Tupperware that was full of sugar. Tucking it under one arm and carry the bowls with my other hand, I go to the table, carefully setting down each item before sitting down in my seat.

"Mulder, about—"

You are interrupted by a loud knocking at the front door. Startled, you look first at me, then rise, looking questioningly from me to the door.

"Wait here, Mulder. If it's…"

"I know."

You move quickly towards the door and then peak out through the window next it. I try to read your expression, but you hair falls over your face and I can't see how your face is curving as you take hold of the handle and open the door.

The person at the door remains on the other side of it, standing just inside the door. For a few moments you and the visitor talk in hushed tones before you reach over and take the person by the hand. A male hand.

The man who appears from behind the door is unfamiliar, dressed professionally in a suit and a long, matching trench coat, with blue eyes I can see from the kitchen. He face is creased with furrows and wrinkles and worry lines and is deeply tanned, with lips set in a concerned frown. His hand hold yours as the two of you continue to talk, one of his fingers gently caressing the smooth white skin on the back of your hand. He can feel the strong muscles and tendons that run through your hand, the veins that stick up just slightly from under the skin, the skin smoothed by apple-scented hand lotion.

Something you say causes him to turn his head and he sees me. The emotion in his eyes is a mixture of confusion and awe and disbelief. For a few moments the two of you continue to talk, the stern, concerned frown still remaining, before you gesture for him to follow you.

You flutter with nervous tension. With me and this visitor standing in the same room, you feel like two worlds are colliding. You expect an explosion, like two opposing universes meeting for a battle to the death. Two stern frowns of concern, two hands that stroke her gently and tenderly. Letting go of the man's hand, you gesture to me as you tell him, "Agent Doggett, this is Agent Mulder. Mulder, this is Agent Doggett, the man who was assigned to the X-files during your absence."

END PART II

**************I really appreciate any feedback. I know there may be a few inaccuracies, so try not to butcher me over them, K? 


	3. A Confession...

I See You PART I

Author's Note: I'm open to suggestions of where to go from here. It started out pretty easy, but… Anyway, any kind of feedback you can give me would be deeply appreciated. Some people have commented on the fact that I refer to Mulder as he & I, and I promise it will make sense later, just be patient… And as for how Mulder has changed, that's coming too, I'm just building… THANX!! Bye!

**I See You PART III**

He looks at me carefully, examining me closely before extending his hand. I take his very soft, almost female hand in mine and shake it firmly. He doubts my presence and looks from me to you and then back again. I watch him closely, and you too, and he begins to edge away from you, noticing my scrutiny.

"Nice to meet you, Agent Doggett. What brings you here?"

At this you duck your head and blush slightly. You called him. Told him that I had returned. Under low eyelids, his eyes slide over to you, questioning whether he was supposed to lie to me. Your eyes flicker to my face, knowing I would know if he lied, and then you glance at him briefly and nod. With your consent, he says, "Agent Scully called me this morning to let me know that you had resurfaced."

"Well, here I am."

"Mulder, I called him because he was in charge of the search. If we had been searching for anyone else, I would have done the same."

"Skinner had already called to inform me that you were back, but she didn't know that."

I watch as his hand casually touches her shoulder. The tips of his fingers caress the once starched white cotton blouse, feeling the warmth from your skin. The movement was nearly imperceptible. But there was a slight shadow the faded and darkened with his movements and my eyes zeroed in the on the minute motion.

"It's okay, Scully, I'm not angry. I just didn't think that anyone'd come over quite this early for questions. I guess I just figured I could get a little more time before…"

He steps towards me now, his hands sweeping down your arm with a singing rustle across your sleeve. In two quick strides he reaches the table, now standing nearly toe to toe with me.

"I didn't come here to question you, Agent Mulder. Assistant Director Skinner told me that you remember next to nothing about what happened to you. I have no intention of pumping you for information that you don't have."

His voice is very tense and matter of fact, making sure to punctuate the end of each of his sentences. It was like he was taking some speech-giving classes literally. Each line was confident and unwavering. His cold blue eyes stared strait into my own, quivering only slightly from his effort. He remembers how I was described as a paranoid man. He wants me to trust him.

Not retreating an inch, I reply, "Then why did you come, Agent Doggett?" But I did not look him in the eye. Instead I was looking past him at you, leaning against the doorframe that led to the kitchen. You eyes were pleading helplessly with the back of his head as you one of your hands unconsciously caressed the child within you.

"I came here because Agent Scully…"

"I asked him to come here, Mulder. I wanted my mom or Skinner or one of the Gunmen to come, but they were all unavailable. I just needed someone, Mulder. To reaffirm that this wasn't a dream. That I wasn't hallucinating."

I had been watching him as you spoke, as he nervously shifted, then turned around to face you, leaving me to look at his strait, well-postured back. Just as you finished speaking I shifted my eyes to you in time to see your eyes scurry back over to me from him. You had been watching him very closely as you spoke to me.

"It's all right, Scully. Agent Doggett, would you like to join us for breakfast? We're having granola fruit something cereal."

"No, no thank you. I've already eaten."

Sitting down, I realize that I don't have a spoon, and am about to get up to get one when I realize there is one waving right in front of me.

"Thanks, Scully."

"No problem."

You sit down next to me and begin to eat your cereal. He is just standing there watching the two of us eating. I take my first bite and almost immediately spit it back into my bowl.

"UUUCchh!! What is this stuff, Scully? Cardboard?"

"Mulder, just because it doesn't have tons of sugar or a prize in the box…"

I've gotten up to retrieve the sugar from where I left it and your voice trails off as you take a bite of yours. You watch me, laughing slightly as I take the measuring cup that you keep in the container and fill it to the brim and then some, and procceed to dump the entire 1 cup plus some in my bowl of cereal.

"Mulder, that's digusting. Only a two year old--"

"Ain't my fault all you have is this healthy stuff."

Confidently, with a great big smile on my face, I take a big spoonful of the stuff after stirring it around. I raise it towards her like a toast and then quickly put in my mouth before it can drip on the table. It's horrid and sugary, but I smile and quickly chew up the offensive cereal.

He is watching us with a great deal of curiosity, but has not yet sat down at the table with us. You have been shoveling your cereal in your mouth as fast as you can, and I am about to crack on your appetite when you look up and realize he is still standing there.

You pause from your feeding frenzy, dripping milk from the corners of your mouth, empty spoon raised in your hand, to say, "Sit down, Jo- Agent Doggett. Do you want some coffee? Tea?…Orange juice?"

A look of relief passes over his features and he pulls out the chair that is next to hers at the small square table. It squeaks as he pulls it out and he cringes slightly. You jump back from the table. He settles into the creaking chair, directly across from me and watches as the two of us eat. He leans back ever so slightly. It takes very little adjusting for him to pick this position before he stretches his arms out to rest on the table. Unlike myself, he sits very still and quietly, not fidgeting or playing with the objects on the table. He appears comfortable and familiar with the space, as he doesn't look around at the cabinets or any of the small decorative nic-nacks that sit around on the counters.

"Oh, Mulder, I forgot to get us more orange juice."

To our surprise, he rises from the table and states, "I'll get it for you. You just eat your breakfast." You look at me questioningly and I return the look. "Where do you keep your cups, Agent Scully?"

Straining slightly, you twist your trunk around to look and point to the cupboard, and then groan slightly as you turn to face the table once more. Spooning some dripping cereal into my mouth, I watch him behind you, retrieving the orange juice from the refrigerator. But your blue eyes distract me from me paranoia and I find myself watch as your appetite suddenly slows, and you are being much more careful with your food, carefully chewing, a thin layer of creamy white still touching your lips.

His arm passes in front of my face and I jump slightly. I hadn't noticed that he had finished pouring the orange juice and was setting a glass next to me. I didn't allow myself to be distracted as he brings you your glass and bends down to whisper something in your ear. Nodding gratefully, you grin up at him.

"I will see you two, later. Take your time. I don't mind and I'm sure the Assistant Director won't mind either if you would like to wait until tomorrow. Whenever you're ready."

"See you later, Agent."

"Bye."

You don't rise to show him to the door. Rather you take a long drink of your orange juice once he'd said his parting words, closing your eyes.

Once the door has closed and the silence has returned, you tilt your face back to drink from the blue glass. Your face is hidden, both by the angle and the cup, and your smooth-skinnned throat is exposed. I watch thebobbingof the tendons become highly defined, stretchedand exposed. After you slurp out the last of the liquid from the glass, you let out a quiet, female sigh that you would normally hide from me, and then gently place thetranslucent plastic cup on the table. Your eyes, darkly shadowed and bagged, are still closed, soft lashes resting gently against the top of your cheeks, and I watch as they flutter open. Your body hasn't caught up with the relieft that has released your emotions. It's been a very long time since you slept well, there is a lot to make up. You allow yourselfa moment to drift as you stare absently at a wall, soaking in the moment. Drawing in a warm, humming breath, you bring your eyes back intofocus to smile at me beffore silently risingand disappearing to your bedroom.

I lean back in the chair and it creaks slightly in protest.The kitchen and the entire house smell of you and your soap and your waterless hand-sanitizer. But there is still the lingering scent of something left to fester and the non-bleach disinfectant and cleaner that you used to eliminate it. The light padding of your feet and your movements from the room cause me to strain to listen closer, imagining you, opening drawers andcupboards, undressing andredressing before your mirror, brushing down your hair hastily with your finger, smudging at your face, warming and smoothing the blankness and the lines from your skin.

I remember standing in your bedroom, back in your apartment, in the shadows, waiting for you to return. You were the only one I could trust, the only one who could help me find the truth I was looking forat the moment. You were so tired that you left the lights out and I watched you enter, highlighted in silver moonlight, your hair a dark shimmeringcrimson. You hands had begun to unbutton your blouse just as I stepped into the stream of night-light with you. Immediately you jump to the side, leaping towardsthetable where you had set down your gun. In the quick movement your breaths had grown labored and quick, but dragged downward to normal as recognition set in. Little sighhs caught in your breath asyou askedme what I was doing. As I explained, you walkeed over and flipped on a lighht. Once again you were normal, bathed in yellow-white ligghht, colored in cream and corals and pinks and muted woolen suits. Not blacks shadows and blue-silver highlights.

I hear the door click as you come back out, towards the kitchen. Seeingthat my cereal still sits on the table, still half fullyou smile at me and ask, "Let me guess, you added too much sugar."

"Yeah, your cereal's way to sweet for me, Scully. Howdo you eat this junk, Scully?"

"You know you were the one wh… Never mind. Just put the bowl in the sink, Mulder."

You pick up your bowl andcup andplace them gently in the sink. WhenI don't move, you return to the table and scowlat me. "Don't tell me I have to takeit to the sink for you too."

"Nah, I'll do it. Just give me second." I take aquick gulp of the orange juice and thentake thecup and bowl to the sink, letting them drop in noisily, before returningto the table.

"We have to go in today, Mulder." You are right behind me now, resting your hands on my shoulders, just resting. Reaching up, I take one of your hands and caress the soft skin on the back, admiring your nicely manicured and clean nails. Again I can smell that hand-sanitizer, and the curve of you stomach is rubbing against the back of my head whenever you inhale. I lean back into you and close my eyes, feelingthe warmth of you body near me. "Really. It can't be avoided. Skinner—"

"I know."

"When would you like to go? Do you need a little more time?"

"Let's get it over with, Scully."

"We'll… We'll stop by your place so you can change."

"Why, what's wrong with this, Scully?"

"Nothing except you _slept _in it. And I'm not quick sure what some of these stains are…"

"Skinner won't care."

"I do. Now, go find your shoes. Did you drive here?"

"No, Skinner brought me. Figured I wasn't coherent enough for driving."

"Come on, Mulder, time to go."

I rose, expecting that we'd be headingright out the door. You wanted to go inearlier. Maybe evenwanted Doggett to get it over with. This was all so awkward. You had no way to control it. No way to deal with it effectively and efficiently. You could only react: Do things as you could. None of it made any sense until it was over, and even thensometimes it was unclear and you didn't know if you'd justdreamed it all. It was scientific, or religious, or spiritual, or anything but unpredictable. There was nothing to do but react.

Over the years, you had gottenused to that. But you still didn't like it, still wanted thing to follow the rules, to be easily analyzed and catagorized,to fit perfectly into a preset formula for how to solve it and get out. You wanted to be able to detect the undetectable, proof of theunproovable, to explain the unexplainable, to predict the unthinkable. 

This made you nervous and uneasy, jumpy. It put you out of sorts, and forced you to question every routine and meaningless ritual that you performed everyday. What could you have changed to have made this come out the way you wanted it to? How could you have prevented this? How could you prove this? Whhat could you have done to _know_, to prepare,forwhat was really going to happen, not just what happened in the best and worst of yourdreams?

I had risen, but you had gone into the living room, and instead of going for the front door, you collapsed on the couch with aheavy hmmmmph. Exhausted. I approach the back of your head, you red hair fanned out on the pillow, glistening inthe light. Coming past you, I sit down, next to your body. You are sprawled out into the corner, extending your arms out on the back and side of the couch, your head tilted back, causing your swollen stomachtoprotrude slightly further. Leaning forward, I try to see if your eyes are closed, but your face isangled too far back to see.

"Is anything wrong, Scully?"

"I'm fine, Mulder. Just a little tired."

I'm fine. _I'm fine._ Every time you worried you whispered those words, hoping that it would turn off the switch inside me that wantedto kill anything and everythingthat caused you even the slightest discomfort. I reach up and take one of your hands from the back of the couch and lean toward you slightly and kiss your finger tips.

"Come on, Scully. I know it's more than that. There's something you're not telling me."

"No, really. I'm just so tired, Mulder. Carrying around an extra thirty poundson your stomach is enough to wear anyone out."

"Talk tome, Scully."

With a deep, heavy sigh you pull yourself upright, refusing the hand I offer to help her. You stare downward, allowing me to see only the thin, veined skin of your eyelids and yourlashes. Gently I reach out and push the hair by the side of your face behind your ear, then guide your head upward until you are lookingat me, or at least your face is. The blue in your eyes flickers over the room, skippingover me quicker than the rest.

"God, I missed you Scully."

A wry smile spreads on your lips and you wonder a little. You wonder if perhaps now is the time to tell me. It seemed right. An appropriate response. There was much to confess. Much to say, many apologies and thank yous. So much. You try to look away but my handstops you and again you are staring at me. Something in you lets go and you gently lean into my hand, rubbing at it like a cat before scooching closer to me, until our thighsare lined up, pressed tightly together, hip to hip, knee to knee. You soft, familiar and strong fingers trail up my arm, and then wander over my shoulders until you are hugging me close. Returning thegesture, I hug your shoulders as you begin to cry. My other hand reaches up and turns yourface until weare staringat each other, faces only inches apart. I can see the smooth creamy skin of you face. The pale areas near your eyes and under your nose and below your lips and under your nose. The little lines at the corners of youreyes and lips. The little strands of disobedient strands of hair that stick to your cheeks andtickle your chin.

You are near enough that the vibrations of your heart pass through the space and reverberate in my chest. I jump slightly as your body spasms as you begin to sob. Hot and sticky, your breath is on my face. I draw you closer, hugging you until we are as close as our positions permit. You stomach to mine, cheek to cheek, entwined in one another's arms.

"I'mso sorry, Mulder, I didn't mean to…"

"It's okay, Scully. Shhh. It's all right…"

"Mulder, the baby's yours."

END PART III

***********Want to know more? I'll probably post again sometime within the nexttwo or three days. I know I haven't lived up to the summary, but hey, I _did_ say there would be chapters, so just wait. It'll come. But this is definitely a Shipper fic, just in case your wondering.


	4. We Begin To Seperate...

I jump back a little, looking at your downturned face, but only seeing your forehead and your soft hair

Authors Note: This one's a little shorter, but I'm going by significant events rather than by equal size. Please review, I LOVE FEEDBACK!!

I See You PART IV 

I jump back a little, looking at yourdownturned face, but only seeingyourforehead and your soft hair. You push yourself out of my arms, and rise up and disappear up the stairs to your bedroom. The feel of you against me remains for a moment, and I'm not sure what I really heard. If I did hear it, then…

You lie on your back, sprawled out on your bed and crying. Caressing your stomach, you chastise yourself for running away. _Coward._ Nervously, your hands tremble as you try to wipe away your tears, carefully listening for me.Inside, you've gone back to the day. When you told him thhat the procedure had been unsuccessful. You cried before the words were even out and he drew you into his arms and knew. You never told him you tried again, and he was gonebefore you knew. I knock on the door to your bedroom, forcing you to return.

"Scully?"

"Come in Mulder. I'm sorry, I just—"  
  


I come in, finding you flushed, shaking, and panting slightly, sprawled out, caressing yourstomach and staring at the ceiling, tears pooling in yours eyes once more. The room is decorated in bright white and light blue and sunshine, the air is humid and thick from your tears. Lookinng down, I long to place my hand with yours on your stomach.

But you are terrified. The heat of your tears burn inside as you press them back in. Why hadn't you told him?

"Scully…"

"Well?"

"Scully, what do you want meto be?"

Your blue eyes flickerdown from the ceiling to look into my own, the surface still waivering withh tears. You search for him, staring and crying. I move to comfort you, seeing itis only fear that made you run, not anger. Kicking off my shoes, I sit down on the bed next to you, trailingmy fingers across your flushed, damp skin, stroking away the tears.

"You know, Mulder, we never really discussed what would happen if it worked,did we?"

Gently brushing and smoothing your hair, I shift slightly closer to your body, which still lies tense, shaking slightly. "No, we didn't."

"I think we should… Becausee this changes things, doesn't it?"

Warily you watch as my hand leaves your hair to your stomach, before placing your hand over my hand, squeezing a little. How often have you dreamed of him doing this? "Yes, I think it changes a lot."

"Mulder, there's something else I need to say. Something that will be an evenbigger change." Struggling a little, you sit up, leaning shoulder to shoulder with me, turning so we're face to face, inches apart. Your hand still holds my hand to your stomach, your touch lightly caressing. You are silent as you slip back, remembering how often, you'd tried to tell him. How offten you'd dreamed of it, hidden it. And as you relived the failures, unconsciously, you spoke aloud in a trembling, ragged voice, "I love you, Mulder."

No, you loved him. I smile and slide my arms around you, one on your lowwer back, one around your shoulders. "I love you, Scully. I want the baby to know me. I want to be a part of his or her life." With a long, shuddered sighh, you fall against me, hugging me, pulling me closer, burying your warm face in my shoulder. The soft, delicate flesh of your ear and yor silky hair brush softly against my neck and just under my chin. Inhaling, I smell you, freshly clean, withflowery soap and herbal shampoo and hand-sanitizer. 

Pulling back a tiny bit, I place gentle kisses on the curve where your neck and shoulders meet, causing you to shiver. I explore upward, tasting and memorizing. I am at the back of your jaw, near your throat, just at the edge of your chin where the bone juts out when wehear someone knocking on the front door.

You pull back with a small groan. I let you go and watch as you exit the room. Quietly I follow you down the hall, and wait,watching from the top of the stairs as you open the door. You've whiped away your tears, and cleaned up a little and manage a smile as you let Assistant Director Skinner come in.


	5. What You Don't Want to Believe...

I See You

THIS chapter is now done!!!!

Author's Note: Some people have commented on the fact that I refer to Mulder as he & I, and I promise it starts to make some real sense here. And as for how Mulder has changed, that's coming too, I'm just building… THANX!! Bye!

**I See You**

**Part V**

"Where is he, Scully?"

"What are you doing here, sir? I thought we—"

"Agent Doggett told me that he wasn't really up for travel. He suggested that he might be… more comfortable if I came here to talk to him."

"He's upstairs. Let me—"

"Good morn- afternoon, sir."

Surprised, the two of you look up at me as I move down the stairs. He looks nervous, more so than Doggett. You are watching me, regretfully, a small worried frown resting distinctly on your soft pale features. But you revealed your secret in the hand that leads him to the couch. Nothing's going to happen as longas he's here. You don't wait for him to sit, collapsing heavily onto the couch with a deep, breath sigh.

Here, there is control: in the carefully cleaned furnishings, in the light blues and creams, in Skinner's stiff, professional posture, in his intentions, in the absence of privacy and warmth and quiet tears.You are comfortable. It is still and you already know what Skinner will ask. You know _his_ answers, but do you know _mine?_ Skinner sits in the armchair that is aligned perpendicular to the couch.

I sit next to you, very close, so _he_ cannot. You mistake my choice for a desire for comfort, and reach out to hold me in your arms. Gladly I accept. The warmth and light radiates from you. From your skin. Your body. Your clothes. Your eyes. Your scent. I know he and Skinner are watching, but I still lean into your embrace, feeling the give of your flesh and the pressure of you bones, grateful for you presence. Inhaling your scent, memorizing the textures that are only visible at this close range, enjoying the shapes and curves that are normally out of my reach.

"How are you feeling Agent Mulder?"

"Good, considering…"

"Yes, I see… I take it Agent Scully is taking good care of you."

"Of course."

"You two may remain here until you've healed sufficiently to be independent."

This is Skinner's house, but still he shifts nervously. _He_ is sitting next to him, wanting to squeeze between us, to feel the give of your flesh, the pressure of you bones, the heat from you soul. But he must remain, quietly waiting on the arm of Skinner's chair. He is eyeing you possessively, wondering why you would believe me. How you would believe me. He knew you would. You had trusted him, Fox Mulder, unquestioningly. You would trust me, Fox Mulder, unquestioningly. You ignore any doubts because you don't want them.

You want to believe.

You've imaginedmy return for so long, it was only natural the event had seemed suspect, seemed unreal, too good to be true.He is pleading to you with his eye, willing you to see him.

But you can't see him until you stop seeing me.

"Agent Mulder, I know you told me you don't remember much, but…"

"The last thing I remember is setting up the equipment. I sensed something, and moved towards it. Away from you…"

You wait a moment, expecting I need to collect my emotions,as I remind him to be quiet with my eyes.

"Suddenly, there was a bright light… There were people. All the people who had been taken… It was bright, bright hot white blue. I looked upward and…"

"What is it, Mulder?"

"Then I blinked. When I opened my eyes again, I was in that coffin and I hurt like hell."

He and I close our eyes, flashing back to the light that snapped to airtight darkness. You hand rubs warm circles on my back, subtly,as Skinner nods solemnly.

You gaze turns to Skinner for a moment, and you breath a weary sigh. There is something odd about Skinner's chair and it's bothering you. It's a heavy, over-stuffed, blue armchair, upholstered in something smooth and semi-silky. The fabric is tight and the low backed chair is round, made of circles and over-rounded rectangles. Slowly, your arms drop away from me and I turn to watch your gaze.

One arm, however, is slightly depressed. Along the smooth, convex curves, there is a sudden concave impression. You blink, and for a moment, you can see him flicker in and out of your vision.

A tiny gasp reveals your discovery, and Skinner turns to stare at your shocked expression.

Blinking again, you almost expect him to appear there;

But you don't want to believe.

"What is it, Agent Scully?"

Skinner follows your gaze to find nothing but the arm of his chair. Worriedly he glances around, looking at me questioningly.

"Agent Scully? Are you alright?"

Sitting up, I snake an arm around your waste and reach a hand up to turn your face to mine. Your pupils are dilated and your shocked eyes have darkened to a dusky purple, and you flush slightly with embarrassment.

"Nothing, I'm fine, sir."

"Are you sure?"  
  


"I just kind of drifted off for a moment."

_He_ has risen from the arm of Skinner's chair and tries to caress your soft hair. It moves slightly, as though caught in a minute draft. Disappointed in your reaction, he stalks from the room, headlowered.

Skinner shift restlessly again in his chair, and you glance towards me, eyes now white and wide,overly dried and studded blue, pity drawing a slight, nearly imperceptible furrow from your brow. The wry grin on your thin lips is weak at best as you trace your vision heavily along the scars marring my face. Yourarms tighten around me, and your head drops to rest your cheek against my chest. I allow the sigh to escape, andthen inhale your warmth and smell, feeling the heat of your ones pressing against my flesh.

You inhale deeply, quivering slightly, with a tiny throaty sound, grateful I have allowed you this contact, hoping it will be enough to stay the onslaught of tears. I hold you tighter as your memory take you back to before he disappeared. Before it all: the beginning.

With his joking reassurance that the lumps were only mosquito bites, you trembled slightly in the cold darkness, slightly fearful of him, realizing you trusted this near stranger's words in a moment of fear. As the fear dwindled, something else crept inside.You believed him.

Despite the science. The rationale. The more logical explanations. Your firm denial, and refusal to accept that which is not based in science.

You believed him enough to believe that you were to be the next victim.

You were wrong twofold. Your presence in that cold, nighttime hotel room proved it. Perhaps he was right about it all.

You laugh at yourself then, realizing how right you had been inthose moments of silence as you stared up into his eyes, fighting tears even then.

You surprised yourself that night when you fell into his arms, finding strength and warmth inhim, where you had only seen hatred, animosity, suspicion, and paranoia before. You expected at the very least distaste. Not a warm embrace and caring caresses.

He surprised himself that night as he responded, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you close to hide his face as he knew he looked terrified.

He had expected control. He expected perfunctory nods. Solemn expressions. Careful, scientific scrutiny. Detached, professional interest. Stiff, impersonal words, laced with admiration, awe, and a bit of fear.

But before him bathed in moonlight, highlight in silver, blue, and black, something melted and shattered, and the cold distance dissipated, leaving behind intense warmth and vulnerability. The aching, instinctive trust and need that reminded him of a child.

Momentarily, he thought it was an act.

Then your flushed skin me his own until bone prevented her from drawing nearer. Then you trembled in his arms. Then you let out tiny sounds of controlled, hidden tears. You were trusting him with your life, with the vulnerable inside that you never showed anyone. Guiltily he closed his eyes, knowing that you shouldn't have had to reveal this part of yourself.

He was allowed to trust no one, but within seconds of feeling your tiny body pressed to his, he trusted you. Despite your control Despite the perfunctory nods. Solemn expressions. Careful, scientific scrutiny. Detached, professional interest. Stiff, impersonal words, laced with admiration, awe,and a bit of fear.

I felt your breath on my chest as you memories let go, leaving you near tears on Skinner's couch. Looking down, I could see only the top of your dark red hair, carefully parted and smoothed, glinting brighter copper in some places.

You drew back with a shuddered sigh, eyes unfocused and dreamy, drawing back like a child rising from a nap, still reluctant to leave her bed. Still holding on, you lean back slightly, allowing your sleepy eyes to fall on Skinner.

"Are you sure you're all right, Agent Scully?"

"Fine sir, I just—I just didn't quite get enough sleep last night. Before he—I didn't come strait home after the funeral… I was out late, and then…"  
  


"You don't need to explain. If you would like me to call someone to come out and join you two, help you—"

"That won't be necessary. Oh, I'll probably call my mom, but she doesn't need to come out here."  
  


"Very well. Agent Mulder, are you sure there's nothing you're leaving out?"

"If I remember anything else, I'll make sure to give you a call."

"Allright, I'll leave you two to get some rest. Here's the number of the doctor that saw him at DC General. If he needs some pain medication or anything, or even if you just have questions, she should be able tohelp you."

Skinner rose, handing you a small slip of paper, which you fold and quickly slip into your back pocket. Disentangling yourself from my arms, you and Skinner was slowly to the front door. You open the door to let you out, and he takes hold of you arms and asks you to step outside for a moment.

"I'll be right back, Mulder, I'm just going to walk him out to his car."

I nod, knowing he's going to talk about me, but I only lean back on the couch. Closing my eyes, I recall the scent of your hair, as it had been resting just under my nose. Smiling slightly, I wonder if it is shampoo or soap or lotion or something else that produces that smell. It is distinctly you, a mix of soap and flowers and rain and green apples. Mainly it centers around your head, floating in a cloud about your hair, waftingto me when your hair moves. The soft smoothness of your skin, like a warm, living fabric, rich and creamy, lightly scented with more of your unique mixture. All shades of pinks and peaches, creams and corals. Always very light, easily flushing from the slightest warmth or embarrassment. The stunning blue of you eyes, incomparable to other similar shades. They blended and glowed from a deep violet to a clear, almost aqua blue, like the ocean as the sun move across the sky, creating shadows and points of light.

I hear movement and open my eyes, expecting to find you watching me, probably with your arms folded and grinning at my sprawled figure. You constantly worry about my sleeping habits, and when you do catch me napping, my unusual positions and locations amuse and amaze you, as well as puzzle you.

But instead of pink and coral curves, I find only my scarred angry self.

"She's goingto figure it out eventually."

******


	6. Identity...

I See You PART VI

(see Chapter one for disclaimer)

Author's Note: Finally, you can begin to see where I'm going… Maybe.Anyway, I'm getting near the end now, so stay tuned…

Andagain, I always appreciate feedback, and appreciate even more you read my NON-X-files writing.

I See You PART VI

"I think I'm doing a very good job impersonating you, Agent Mulder. I think it will be quite a while before she figures it out, so I think I'll stick around a while longer."

"If you so much as--"

"I'm not going to hurt her, Agent Mulder. Stop fussing. Remember I share your… emotions concerning you lovely partner."

He is seething and balling his hands into fists and clenching his jaw, leaving his eyes to harden into stony hazel. Watching me, he tries to ignore the slight grin that has appeared upon my lips. But instead he only stares at them, at the grin, committing the moment to memory, using to fan his already raging fire. Expletives linger at your vocal chords, awaiting the opportunity to air their presence.

The soft click of the door opening and you returning breaks our gazes. My eyes flit to the door, then back to him, only to find him gone.

You enter the room, a concerned frown placed decidedly on your lips. You're considering what Skinner said. Very carefully. There is undoubtedly some changes. You can see them yourself. With discerning scrutiny, you carefully check over every feature, the curve of my cheek, the dent in my lip, the color of my eyes, my posture as I contentedly watch you back, knowing you will find nothing suspicious concerning my appearance.

Nothing. You find nothing on which to base your suspicions. All you have to go on is my attitude. My voice. My confession.

Our confessions.

You want to believe in them so much, but there is something not really right about it… It wasn't supposed to be like that. You in tears and weak, no jokes or double entendres from me. In this I have failed.

But you want to believe.

And so you come back to me, eyes softening, melting from wintry ice to summer skies with each movement, floating in with the strong scent of your soaps and hand crème. Gently your soft fingers caress the skin of my face, still wondering at the texture. I see you lips tremble a little with want, knowing they have not met mine yet, knowing that there was only a few more feet before they would meet. The warmth shivering extends outward, crawling along your skin, bring a rosy blush to you fair cheeks, encouraging my hands to draw you in close. Hesitantly, you respond to my touch, and allow me to draw you down until you are in my lap, the warmth and roundness of your belly jutting firmly against my own stomach as our lips meet in a gentle touch.

He is standing behind us now, hurt and wounded, and I close my eyes, driving him away. Playfully, you nibble at my lower lip, remember how it had tempted you for all those years, watching him chew on it, and jut it out in one of his puppy-dog faces. You breath a tiny sigh through your nose and relax, remaining in contact, but drawing back you lips to look into my eyes. At this close range, I can see the darker blue flecks that accent the lighter part of your iris, and the tiny lines in your skin, and smell the apple-scented hand lotion so strong, and with every breath I can feel your body press into mine.

His shadows lurks behind your head, barely visible, but radiating its presence. Quietly he whispers, "It will happen soon."

Sharply I inhale and you quickly search me for the cause of the distress.

"What is it, Mulder? I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"No, it's not that, Scully. I just…"

"You just what?"

"I'm just glad to be here."

Amused, you grin quietly and rise, taking me by the hand and leading me into the kitchen. Curiously, I watch your devious face as you root through one of the cupboards, moving around boxes and bottles and papers. Your bare feet strain to hold you on tip toes as you try to reach something at the very back.

"Let me, Scully. I don't think your little legs can reach."

"I'm fine, Mulder, just sit down."

"Come on, tell me what you're looking for and I'll get it."

Your eyes widen a little as you discover the object of your explorations. With a little hop you reach back into the depths and your delicate fingers emerge holding a stethoscope.

"What's that for, Scully?"

Grinning in an uncharacteristically mischievous grin, you swagger over to me and lean over, playfully snapping the ear pieces into my ears. Straitening, you hold move the stethoscope under your shirt.

"Tell me when you can hear it."

Sliding the cool metal across your stomach, you watch me contentedly, finding pleasure in the boyish excitement that spreads across my features.

"There, I can hear our baby."

My eyelids drift shut, feeling the heat radiating from you on my face. Eye-level with your stomach, I can detect the tiny motions of the child within and raise a hand to feel the movement, causing your grin to widen. A hand appears next to my own and I turn to find _him_ there next to me.

Immediately, I glance up at you to see if you notice the change, but you seem undisturbed by this sudden intrusion.

He whispers softly, voice slightly raspy from emotion, trying to hold back tears.

"You were no part of this. She'll know it soon."

Pulling back his hand, he brushes against my shoulder slightly. Shocked, I quickly withdraw my hand and jerk towards him, fearing that perhaps he is beginning to win. When he quickly fades, I turn back to you, immediately regretting my quick reaction. Pain has sprung into your eyes, tinting them green, and highlighting the flecks of darkness, and widening your pupils. Your brows wrinkles and your eyes narrow in suspicion. The doubt is lying there behind the hurt and behind the surprise that is shimmering at the top.

Taking your hand in mine I whisper, "Sorry, Scully. I thought I heard something."

Carefully I draw you into my arms and down into my lap, cradling your soft face against my shoulder. With a grateful sigh, you cuddle closer, clinging to my frame for strength. You want me close, inconstant contact, to keep you grounded here, inthis reality. Even as your slim fingers curl at the backof my neck in the bottom of my hair, you fear that I will disappear, reopening the gaping hole that is still tender and throbbing at the edge, tissue worn thin and shredded. The rims of your eyes are pink and swollen from battling back the tears. The fight had left your face pink and blanched, but now it is hidden from my view and you allow yourself a single tear. Pulling back, I look into your flushed face and wipe away the tear that still hangs from your cheek with my thumb as I hold your face between my palms.

Suddenly, your eyes widenand you straiten up. Your eyes quiver as they skirt to the side.

"Mulder? Who's behind me?"

The hand is gently rubbing your back.

I continue to hold your face, pulling back until I see _him_.

"Who is it?"

You wrench yourself from my hands, rising and spinning around. You catch a glimpse of him in the corner of your eyes but he disappears before you can identify a single feature, leaving you reaching for the gun that isn't there.

"Someone was there, Mulder. I swear I felt a hand between my shoulder blades,rubbing my back. Like it was comforting me. It felt so _familiar."_

"There was no one there Scully."

"But I…"

I get up and draw your trembling body close, one arm encircling your waist, the other caressing your hair. You can still feel where his hand had bbeen, tingling and alert. The fear was back. It had dissipated momentarily at my arrival, but it was now recollecting itself.

I knew the doubts were coming as you pulled yourself away.

"What made you love me, Mulder? After all my objections. After all my scientific skepticism and analysis. After all the arguments… How…?"

"Perhaps because of all of that. Because while you were performing your search in a different way, we were going to the same place. Because when my decree was 'trust no one', I found myself trusting you, in spite of your scientific perspective, and all the doubts I had about your motives. Ifound myself trusting you from themoment you came intomy arms that night in Oregon and I looked downat your little red head."

Something in you shifted the instant I uttered the word "red". It moved the air in the entire room. Taking another step back from me, you search my eyes for a moment, but then something behind me catches your eyes. Your soft lips open in shock, disbelieving, your eyes darting back and forth from the object to me.

"Who are you?"

Our two identical voices whisper:

"It's me, Mulder."


End file.
